


Pretty Poison

by saltandbyrne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coming In Pants, Community: spn-masquerade, Extremely Underage, Frottage, Groping, M/M, Sibling Incest, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4892488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Augusta isn't a half bad place to lay low.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Poison

**Author's Note:**

> Written for round 3 of spn-masquerade for the prompt: Dean wants little Sammy to sit on his lap (Sam between 8-13). Up to you whether he gropes Sam or rubs against him.
> 
> Age unspecified, Sam is prepubescent (although the TV show dates him at about 10).

Augusta isn't a half bad place to lay low.  
  
Their rental shares an entry with a pawn shop and the landlady Dean's fairly sure their dad is screwing. She brings them biscuits sometimes and Dean can't even bring himself to hate her. They'll be gone once a new crop of credit cards hits the mailbox anyway.  
  
Dad's working at a garage two blocks east with a fat guy called Tiny and a crankhead every one secretly calls Meth Johnny. His teeth are jacked but he's got some connection to Caleb that Dad doesn't like to talk about it.  
  
Grinding your teeth down might be better than remembering anyway.  
  
There's no real fall down here, just an abatement of humidity that means there's not a layer of sweat sticking Sam's thigh next to his.  
  
Sam crunches his cereal, scarfing it down too quick to let the store-brand cornflakes get soggy. Kid's always hungry these days.  
  
The living room doesn't get too much light. The blue black intro of Batman washes over Sam's face, throwing him into shadow before the exploding building on screen casts the room red for a few seconds.  
  
They're too old for cartoons but Sam finished his homework during lunch and Dean likes the hottie villain girls with the skintight outfits.  
  
Like anyone could really fight evil in a bathing suit.  
  
Sam slurps his milk before he sets his bowl down on the chipped formica coffee table. There's stains all over it, round rings of some other family's coffee and cigarettes.  Sam sets his bowl perfectly inside one.  
  
Dean's always liked Poison Ivy. She's got a sweet costume and dad always tells him redheads are trouble.  
  
It never makes sense to Dean that Sam's clingier when they're in a real home for a while. He snuggles as close to Dean as humanly possible, bony knees pressing sharp into Dean's thighs.  
  
Dad won't be home for a while.  
  
Harvey Dent's a sucker, even Dean can see that. You don't fall in love with someone after two weeks.  
  
They've got separate beds here, two skinny singles shoved so close together Dean could reach his hand out and brush Sam's hair off his face. They're getting too old to share a bed, Dad always says.  
  
Sam's a pushy little shit some times, inching his way onto Dean's lap. Dean teases him about his peach pit ass digging into him but Batman's staggering under Ivy's tainted lipstick and Dean doesn't push him off.  
  
They're getting too old for this, or maybe they'll never be old enough.  
  
Ivy's got him in her clutches now. Venus flytraps yawn open, plant spit drooling from their spiny mouths.  Fat vines snake out and wrap around Batman's body, holding him helpless as Ivy saunters over to him, hips swaying.  
  
It doesn't take much to get Dean hard these days. Ruined sheets and pointed ignorance from his Dad are pretty much a daily occurrence. Dean's the one who does the laundry anyway.  
  
Sam's that weird half-chubby half-skinny of kids his age. His shoulders dig bony when he leans back against Dean but he's still got a layer of baby fat on his backside. Sam always runs warm.  
  
Batman struggles against Ivy's killer plants, seeing her smile through blurred vision. Her lips swim in and out of focus, deep red and pouted. Sam's lips are always bitten pink lately.  
  
Dean's been drugged like that. Three Percocet and a swig of Dad's Wild Turkey could make his eyes swim like that, enough to get him stitched up and back in the car before the cops show up. It's easy to remember that heavy-down feeling.  
  
Dean's eyes fall closed. Sam's there and he's warm and his arms are snaking down to brush over Dean's sides, a hug in reverse. Sam shouldn't know what he's doing but something in the way he stills, bearing down on Dean until there's no way Sam can't feel his dick against him, _shit_.  
  
Sam feels good.  
  
Ivy's greenhouse is burning as Dean shifts, letting his dick drag against the warm press of Sam's ass. Even through his jeans it's good.  
  
Sam's been snot-nosed since they hit the Mason-Dixon and he breathes noisy as his legs vee open. He rolls back and they're past the lie now, not with the sure rhythm of Dean grinding up into him. He finds the right spot, right where he can drag his dick against the seam of Sam's corduroys.  
  
Ivy screams as flames engulf her plants. She's sobbing about her babies while Dean bites his lip, stifling a groan as Sam starts to roll into him. Kid shouldn't know how to move like that but it's been too long. Dean dares a hand on Sam's hip, that hand he won't stretch out across their beds no matter how much he wants to.  
  
The credits are rolling as Sam moans, a long _Mmmm_ that shouldn't fuck Dean up like that. He tugs Sam back harder just to hear that groan again. Dean's been washing spunk-soaked sheets for weeks but Sam's are always clean.  Sam huffs and hikes his hips up, inching Dean's hand closer to his zip fly.  
  
Sam can't come yet but he'll sure be ready when he can.  
  
It's better when he touches Sam. Dean palms him over his pants, digging the heel of his hand against Sam's little hard on. Sam sighs for it, snuffling as Dean uses his grip to drive Sam back against him.  
  
Dean's free thumb slides along Sam's skin, rucking up his shirt and skating over Sam's soft belly. Sam's always been ticklish and he stutters against Dean, his back arching up before the knobby ladder of his spine settles back against Dean's chest.  
  
Sam's close enough for Dean's breath to huff damp on his skin. Sam's heels graze against Dean's shins as they move, rolling together like two of those big vines in Ivy's lab, moving in ways God never intended.  
  
The sun sneaking in through the blinds lists to the other side of the room, soft southern sunset streaking yellow across the track bare carpet. Dust catches in the light, too far away to reach them on the couch. In the soft blue of the television it's easy to slide his hand down, tucking under Sam's waistband to let his fingers skid down smooth, smooth skin and close over Sam's stiff little dick. Sam moans, open mouthed, writhing under Dean's hand and driving his ass back hard.  
  
Dean's grunting now, worked up and fit to burst as he ruts up against Sam. God it'd feel better on bare skin but it's easier to hide dirty laundry and he's close, close, pulling Sam down and daring a press of his lips to the downy nape of Sam's neck. He soaks into his underwear, grinding wet circles into Sam's ass as he holds him still.  
  
Sam's not old enough to know what's happening but he sighs anyway.  
  
The Justice League trumpets onto the screen, jarring him. Sam slides off his lap, eyes resolutely on the screen as Dean adjusts himself. He needs to change before his pubes get crazy-glued to his underwear again.  
  
They'll be lucky if they get another week in Augusta. Dean should take advantage of the free washing machine while he can. And if he can't, well, hopefully the next place won't have so many sets of sheets to change.

 


End file.
